How?
by Laura the infamous B
Summary: I have seen the power of Whipple and been inspired to post my own, completly harmless and totally mild G rated slash fic. It's kind of, sort of a tag to D Minus Zero. So, without further ado, let the flaming begin! :)


Just letting you know this is a slash piece (albeit, a mild one) for all you people who abhor that kind   
of thing. For the rest of you perverts out there, enjoy.   
(I mean pervert in the nicest possible way of course) ;)****

** How?**   
sort of a tag to D Minus Zero. :)   
by Laura Boeff   


Dylan Hunt sat, staring at the stars whisking past the thick transparasteel window.   
The wisps of steam that had once flitted off his cup of coffee were no more. The hot   
liquid becoming tepid and forgotten in time, though the mug had never left his hand.   
He just couldn't seem to pull his thoughts out of the swirling kaleidoscope they   
had become. He shouldn't be feeling like this. Not at all. By god, he had a fiancée. Okay,   
she was dead, had been for three hundred years, but he hadn't been aware of that time   
passing. The clock had just been turned back on for him a few weeks ago... How, how the   
hell could he feel this when he had loved her so much? How could he even think about   
another when she had been everything he held dear?   
Guilt rolled with the confusion. Not a good mental state to be in. Dylan tried to   
get his thoughts into order. Sort them out at least enough so they would lay dormant till   
another time, when someone wasn't trying to blow up him and his ship. But neither his   
thoughts, or his emotions, were cooperating and his mind had given up arguing with   
them.   
So he sat, trying to sort out how he was feeling. What he was feeling.   
'I'm sorry, Sarah.' He thought morosely of the lovely woman he had once planned to   
marry. It seemed like such a betrayal to her. She was dead, Dylan knew, and it wasn't   
a betrayal really, but... it still felt like that. She deserved to be mourned before he   
moved on. Deserved better than he apparently was giving her loving memory.   
"Captain?"   
Dylan almost flinched and his hand tightened on the cup's handle in fear of dropping   
it. Andromeda's form flickered and solidified into existence beside him, the dark   
haired hologram looking worriedly at him.   
"Oh, hi, Andromeda. What can I do for you?" he asked politely.   
Andromeda's slight frown did not relent. "Are you okay? You seem.. distressed."   
"I'm fine," Dylan returned without thought.   
'Liar, liar!' a dark voice laughed in his mind. Dylan tried to ignore it.   
"Just still a bit wound up from today. Doing a little sightseeing and   
contemplating. Nothing to be worried about," he went on.   
Andromeda nodded slowly, but didn't seem too convinced.   
"Well.. If there's anything I can help with..."   
He managed a smile, appreciating her concern. "I'm fine, but thanks for checking   
in on me."   
"If I can help in anyway..."   
"I'm fine, Andromeda. Really."   
The hologram just nodded and managed a small smile. "Okay. I'll leave you to   
your.. contemplation's." There was a hint of teasing as the hologram dispersed and Dylan   
chuckled. He couldn't ask for a better ship then Andromeda. He was glad time hadn't   
affected her.   
But it affected so much else...   
Which brought him back to his problem.   
Damn it! He should not be feeling like this at all! Not now. Dylan stared back at   
the hazy reflection of himself in the window. Stared without really seeing. He wished   
there was someone he could talk to about this... but there wasn't. Maybe Rev. Maybe the   
Magog monk might offer some words or advice, but Dylan couldn't bring himself to   
open up like that. No. He knew these people but he didn't *know* them. Not yet. And   
how could he bring up the subject of his feelings about one of their own and not cause...   
problems? Hell, he couldn't even reconcile his feelings with himself.   
Dylan sighed and gave up on the coffee, setting the cup aside, slouching a bit   
more in his chair.   
How? How in the heck could he ever explain it to anyone that he had meant it,   
heart and soul, in more ways than one, that the only way Beka was going to take Harper   
from him was over his dead body?   
How?


End file.
